


Poor unfortunate soul

by Tashilover



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: AU, mermaid - Freeform, prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-30
Updated: 2013-03-03
Packaged: 2017-11-27 12:08:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/661832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tashilover/pseuds/Tashilover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Douglas meets the unluckiest merman in all of the seven seas.</p><p>A mermaid!AU. Based off a prompt in the CP meme.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Douglas was suddenly reminded of the movie, 'Jaws'. He feared if he stepped onto that railing over the the pool of dark quiet water, a large aquatic monster was going to jump out and bite him in half.

Mr. Birling looked over his shoulder at him. "Come on, Douglas! Don't be a wussy!"

Only Mr. Birling could make Douglas feel like a heel. Pushing away the mental images of leviathan creatures, Douglas stepped onto the metal bridge, his feet creating the softest of echoing noises.

"He's here," Mr. Birling said, squatting down and grabbing at a chain hanging off the side. "I have to chain him otherwise the little bugger won't come."

He gave the chain two harsh tugs, then stepped back. Immediately, air bubbles broke the surface and Douglas watched in fascination as something dark slowly rose to the top.

He jumped when a mop of red hair bopped just above the water. The hair hovered there for a few seconds, then it ducked back down.

"Bloody 'ell," Mr. Birling growled, reaching down to the chain. "Stubborn bastard..."

Douglas spoke up. "It's alright, I don't need to see it."

Mr. Birling ignored him and gave the chain two more tugs, much harder this time. Subconsciously Douglas rubbed at his own neck, thinking of dogs and their cruel, cruel owners.

Bubbles rose again and the red hair emerged. It floated and slowly, very slowly, the rest of the face rose out of the water.

Douglas sucked in a breath.

It looked human. It had a long face, angular blue eyes, ears, nose and thin lips. The skin, however, was pale pink, like a sunburned victim. As the creature rose from the water, the collar around its neck came into view.

The creature grasped the edges of the bridge and hauled himself up. At least Douglas thought it was a him. He couldn't tell as the other half of the creature's body from the waist down was a fish tail.

Douglas could not cover his gasp. "Oh, Good lord."

"A mermaid," Birling cooed as he kneeled down and ran a hand over the tail. The creature curled his fins inwards in disgust but did not pull away. "Amazing, isn't he? Found him near the edges of New Zealand, caught in a fisher's net. Isn't that just the irony, a mermaid caught by a fisher? Ha! What an idiot!"

"Yes," Douglas said, uncomfortable. He couldn't stop staring at it. "I-"

"I want you to feed him."

"What?"

"Feed. Him. I'm going to be gone next week and I need someone I can trust to look after him. He doesn't need much, just a couple of fish a day, The tank cleans itself so-"

"Now wait a minute," Douglas started. It was already too disturbing to be near this thing and he had only been in its presence for five minutes. "I don't think-"

He was cut off as Birling shoved a hefty wad of bills into Douglas' chest. It was nearly an inch thick, all twenty pound notes. Any protests Douglas might have had died on his tongue.

"Be here in the morning," Birling murmured. He then bent down and patted the merman on the head, ignoring the way the creature glared at him.


	2. Chapter 2

If Douglas didn't need the money so badly, he would've told Birling where he could shove his wad of bills. But his little girl needed braces soon and he didn't have the luxury to be choosey.

Come Monday morning, Douglas found himself standing near the water's edge, grimacing at the prospect of what he had to do. Birling didn't exactly give him instructions. Was Douglas supposed to throw the fish in? Hand-feed the merman?

He stared at the chain hanging off the side, occasionally shifting, making a grating noise as it did. Was this creature capable of harming him? Douglas really didn't want to be killed today.

Sighing at his fate, Douglas trudged over the bridge. He set down his bucket of fish heads, kneeled down and grasped the chain. He tugged twice.

Like last time, a head slowly emerged from the water. Douglas tried very hard not to shudder as the pale blue eyes of the merman blinked at him. "Here," Douglas said, grabbing one fish head and tossing it in the merman's direction.

The head landed next to the merman, and the creature made no effort to catch it. Instead, he watched it sink underneath the murky black water.

"Not hungry?" Douglas said outloud, tossing in another fish head. The creature watched that one sink too. Douglas tossed one more and this time, it bounced off the merman's head.

It must've hurt because the merman gave a little hiss of pain.

Douglas sympathetically flinched. "Whoops, sorry."

The creature narrowed his eyes at him and in response, flipped his tail and splashed water at Douglas.

Douglas gave out a cry, flinching away from the water. He managed to avoid most of it, but his whole right sleeve was soaked. "You little-!"

The merman laughed at him, his giggles sounding like bubbles popping in his throat.

This time, Douglas took deliberate aim with the fish head, slapping the merman straight in the face. The creature retaliated by grabbing the fish and throwing it right back.

Thus began the shortest war ever fought between a human and a merman. By the end of it, both individuals were covered in fish guts, soaking wet, and laughing their heads off.

"Lord," Douglas huffed, getting up off his knees. He twisted the ends of his shirt, draining water out of it. "I call truce. I'm all out of fish heads."

The merman trilled at him, agreeing.

Douglas had to laugh at that. How he managed to understand the creature's random noises, he didn't know. At least he wasn't afraid of it anymore.

"Does Birling call you something other than 'merman'? Do you have a name?"

The merman screwed up his face, as if trying to remember. Then slowly, very deliberatly, the creature spoke, "Maaaaaaaar...tiiiiiiiiinnnn..."

"Martin?" Douglas repeated, incuriously. "Seriously?  _Martin_?"

"Martin!" The merman chirped.

Douglas had to laugh. "It's very nice to meet you, Martin. I'm Douglas."

"Doug-las..." Martin raised a web hand and tapped a finger twice against Douglas' chest, on top of his silver wings pinned to his lapel. "Fly?" He asked with awe in his voice.

"Oh! I'm very surprised you know what these are. Yes, I am a pilot."

Douglas may as well just told Martin he was  _God_. Admiration and awe sparkled in Martin's eyes and he reached out and touched Douglas' wings again, this time with a much more revered caress.


	3. Chapter 3

If you had told Douglas he would spend a week talking to a creature of the sea and teaching it to talk, he would have asked where you got your whisky.

Martin was a fast learner. He was picking up words like a magnet and using them to great efficiency. There was times where he struggled for a word and started trilling madly in frustration until Douglas helped him. By the end of the week, Martin was practically fluent.

Both of them sat on the metal bridge, Douglas leaned against a rail while Martin was on his back, animately talking of whales and giant squid. And in turn, Douglas would tell Martin of exotic birds and mountains and deserts untouched by sea.

"No!" Said Martin, flipping over onto his elbows. "I don't believe you."

"Oh yes. They can beat their wings a hundred times a second."

"Impossible! That's impossible!"

"They're real, I assure you. I've seen them."

Martin laughed and cupped his face, his tail slapping against the metal. "Gosh. I would love to see that."

"Maybe you will one day."

Martin regarded him for a moment. He flipped over onto his elbows, reminding Douglas of his daughter during one of her slumber parties. Martin was gearing himself up for something.

Martin licked his lips and shyly asked, "Douglas, we're friends, right?"

There was more to that question than he was letting on. Douglas answered carefully. "Yes, I suppose."

Martin gathered his courage. In a careful tone, he asked, "Then could you... will you... free me?"

He tugged at the chain around his neck.

Douglas quietly drew back. "Martin, I-"

"He kidnapped me, Douglas," Martin launched in a hurried tone. "He took me from my home. I don't want to be here, I want to go back to my family. _Please_ , you're the only one who can help me."

"Martin... I... you don't understand. I-I can't. I don't... I don't have a job anymore. I don't fly anymore, I was fired. And I have a daughter and I need to provide for her. If I let you go... I don't get paid."

When Douglas was ten, he remembered watching his parents explaining to his brother Jacob about putting the family dog to sleep. Douglas remembered how Jacob's eyes drained of life and something inside of him  _died_ , forever buried next to that dog.

This was worse.

Martin shut his mouth as a slow trilling noise rose from the back of his throat. Douglas thought he was struggling to get the words to form. He was shocked to see hot frustrated tears running down Martins' face. Why would mermaids have the ability to cry?

Martin suddenly bared his teeth at him. "I see how it is."

Douglas tried to reach for him and Martin reared back, hissing. He then dove into the tank, intentionally splashing his tail hard, drenching Douglas. No matter how many times Douglas called his name, Martin refused to resurface.

 

 

 

Birling came home the next day. "What's with the long face, Douglas? Did your wife leave you again?"

If Birling had said that to him a day earlier, Douglas wouldn't have hesitated in punching him in the face. He was too drained to care. "It's... ah... it's been a long week."

"Indeed. I had to deal with my terrible wife and her terrible in-laws. Well, enough about those harpies. How's our guest doing?"

"Martin is doing fine." Though he refused to surface when Douglas tried to feed him that morning.

Birling startled. "Martin?  _Martin_? You actually named the beast?"

Actually martin named himself, but Douglas didn't see the point of divulging in that particular information.

"Oh, you never name an animal, Douglas, otherwise you'll get attached to it. It's a good thing he'll be gone tomorrow otherwise  _I_  might get attached to it."

"Gone?" Douglas repeated. Hope sprung up in him. Was Birling going to return Martin back to the sea?

Birling smiled and it wasn't kind. There was self-satisfaction in his face, the same satisfaction a man got after killing a grizzly bear. It was triumphant. It was ugly. "Did you know there are dozens of legends surrounding the use of mermaid flesh?According to the tales, eating mermaid flesh will grant eternal life."

Douglas sucked in a breath. "You're saying... you're planning to  _eat_  him?"

Birling didn't answer him. Instead, he unzipped his luggage and started pulling out the contents.

Oregano. Garlic powder. Lemon zest.

Douglas quickly left the room, feeling sick. From behind, Birling called out to him,

"Thanks for watching him!"

 


	4. Chapter 4

Birling should have taken his keys back from Douglas.

In his younger days, Douglas used to revel in schemes like this. It wasn't the first time he'd broken into a house. He once broke into his brother's home before his wedding and T-P'd the bedroom. Douglas still giggles about it to this day.

He wasn't giggling now. He didn't know what Birling will do to him if he was caught. Most likely Birling will call the police, but the man was willing to eat a creature that looked  _human_. It was best not to test the moral boundaries in this situation.

It was amazing how little security Birling actually had. He probably thought most burglars would go after his silver and car keys, not the half-man, half-fish creature he had in a tank in his basement.

Douglas broke into Birling's home easily, going to Martin's tank in record time. It was almost freakishly how scary dark it was, the way the low level lighting bounced off the water in greenish and blue tones. Though Martin has never hurt him, Douglas almost hesitated walking on top of the bridge.

He kneeled down to the chain, still hanging off the side. He grasped it and tugged at it twice.

It took a full minute for Martin to rise, his sleepy head bubbling to the top. "Douglas...?" he said, half-asleep.

Douglas pulled out his bolt cutters. The sight of them made Martin snap to attention. "Douglas?"

The chain cut easily. Martin gaped as Douglas motioned him closer. "C'mon, let me get that off you."

Martin heaved himself onto the bridge, angling his neck to allow Douglas to snap off the chain tied around it. Once it was off, Martin gave a relieved groan. "I didn't realise how it heavy it was until it was gone."

"We have to go," Douglas said, tossing the bolt cutters into the water. No point in bringing the tool along, it'll just be extra weight. He grasped one of Martin's arms and pulled it around his neck, bent forward and swooped Martin up bridal-style. Douglas almost dropped him because of his wet, scaly, slimy fish scales.

"Douglas," Martin whispered. "I don't understand. Why are you doing this?"

"Later," Douglas hissed, readjusting his grip. Maybe he shouldn't tell Martin Birling had plans to eat him. Some things were better left unsaid. "Let's get you out of here."

 

 

 

 

Though Douglas needed the money and took on jobs that were less than savory, he still had connections. He could still go to the bakery and walk out with an armload of fresh bread without worry. He could still go to the pub and get a free pint of beer- if he still drank beer.

And he could still contract the use of a floatplane without explanation.

Douglas could've easily driven Martin to the closest beach and just drop him off there, but that would risk Martin getting caught again in another fisher's net. It was best to fly out a couple of miles and avoid all that mess. Get him away from Birling as far as possible.

Martin squealed the whole plane ride.

At first Douglas thought Martin was having a heart attack. Martin didn't sound like a man, woman, or young child squealing. He sounded like swine being dragged to the butchers. But there was no mistaking that smile on his face. Martin was loving every second of it.

Despite his ears protesting, Douglas chose to fly longer than needed. He circled over a few forests, cliffs, dragged the plane above and below the clouds, giving Martin a memorable send-off.

Douglas eventually touched down upon the water just as the sun was beginning to rise above the horizon. He opened the door for Martin, letting him slip down the side, right into the ocean.

"Thank you, Douglas," Martin said. "Thank you so much for helping me."

"Not a problem," Douglas said. Sure, if Birling found out Douglas stole his merman, Douglas may very well be arrested and lose custody of his daughter. Other than that, no problem indeed. "You should go. Swimming back to New Zealand will take some time."

"Before I go..." Martin slid his hand down his side, dipping under the water to his tail. He jerked and made a slight noise of pain.

Held between his thumb and fore finger, Martin brought up a bluish-green scale. "For you."

Douglas didn't know what to say as Martin dropped the scale into his palm. Was Martin offering  _immortal life_? "I-"

Martin clasped his hand, closing it around the scale. "Our flesh is medicine," he said. "Too much and it's a poison. Just a little and it will work  _wonders_. Be cautious how you use it, Douglas. You only have one."

Martin backed away, swimming a few feet from the floatplane. He gazed over the plane with wonderful longing and with one last nod to Douglas, Martin ducked underneath the sea, never to be seen again.

 

 

 

 

 

Birling would eventually call Douglas, screaming at him, demanding to know where his merman was. Given Birling did not have the hindsight of putting up secuirty cameras in his home, he had no proof Douglas was the one who stolen Martin.

And the police weren't going to believe Birling's story of a stolen merman.

Douglas kept the scale wrapped in a handkerchief, locked in a special jar. When his daughter got sick from penumonia, he pulled out the scale, trimmed just a portion of it, and served the shavings in her orange juice the next day.

The penumonia was gone instantly.

He would do it once more when one of his ex-wives was diagnosed with breast cancer, and again when a stroke rendered his new boss, Carolyn, paralyzed on her left side.

A large portion of the scale still sat in his jar, as beautiful and as shiny as the day he got it. Part of him wondered if immortality still could be achieved, if Douglas dared to eat the entire scale. As he grew older and death grew nearer, the temptation of it got stronger.

He resisted it, locking the scale away until the day it could be inherited by his daughter.

Though Douglas never saw Martin again, when he stood on a dock, staring out into the vast ocean, he looked for signs of a merman swimming. Sometimes he swore he could see something like a giant fish off in the distance, jumping into the air, as if trying to fly.


End file.
